Before Destruction
by TamariChan
Summary: Draco/Lucy, in which Draco is totally off his rocker and Lucy loses as she leaves.


**Disclaimer: The world and characters of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling, not to me. The title comes from the biblical quote "Pride goeth before destruction..." and I don't own the Bible, either.**

**Written for Prompts, oh Prompts at the NextGen Fanatics forum, January 9. **

**With thanks to Exceeds Expectations for a wonderful beta job!**

_Before Destruction_

It doesn't hit him until September.

He hasn't seen her or spoken to her in months, and if you asked he would tell you he hasn't _thought_ about her either, not even a little, not even a lot. There's not much opportunity to moon and mope about in Draco's busy life, and if there was he certainly wouldn't spend it on some impudent witch who -

But remember, he doesn't think about her, not ever.

It's some fundraiser, or a charity ball, or maybe even a banquet - as if he cares - and then she's there. Nothing, and then she's _there_, taking up too much space in the room like always, just like the first time he noticed her.

She's not decked out in finery (no, that's Victoire); not pouring backhanded compliments and charming insults on the guests like the sweetest syrup (Lily); not dancing with wild abandon like it will cure the restlessness in her heart and in her bones (Roxanne, of course). No, Lucy is extraordinary in her sheer ordinariness, in the way she reels people in without any bait or hook or rod.

She sees him staring and turns away. His traitorous heart lurches and he knows then. He knows beyond the doubts that have clung to the hems of his robes in the months of silence and drawn breath and shredded letters.

Lucy says what she means, and she means what she says, and she's not coming back. Not ever.

The wineglass shatters in his hand. Blood is blood and blood is on his hands blood blood and people are staring and Draco leaves the room to whispers that his wife's death has driven him mad.

-:-

_She jabs him in the chest with a finger, chest heaving, wand in his face, and he's never seen her before._

"_Who do you think you are?" she spits. Her finger turns into a fist, her eyes burn green (maybe Draco's on a tower watching him fall fall fall). Are those Lucy's screams echoing in his ears, or somebody else's? Those are definitely his feet stumbling back, his voice saying, "Wait, wait, Lucy wait please I don't."_

_Her laugh is mocking (high cold blood red eyes). "I was a fool," she says. She wears Scorpius' accusing face and Scorpius looks like Draco and Draco's sane, he has to be._

"_But I love you," he says._

_She's not his wife and she's not dead, but she leaves him all the same._

-:-

In November, she writes back.

_I can't be second to your wife, _she writes, in a clear script that's somehow cold and heated all at once. _She's not coming back._

_Neither are you, _he replies, but she doesn't answer that letter any more than she's answered the dozens he's sent her since she left.

If the house elves get cut cleaning up all the shattered wine bottles in his study, they don't complain.

-:-

He prays to God Satan Dumbledore Voldemort to free him from his own mind. Scorpius stopped visiting weeks (years) ago. Draco is left alone to crumple where Hermione Granger's blood once dripped into the carpet, where his own followed hours later (and there was no difference, not a bit).

He can feel the deep red liquid drenching his pale skin, and he opens his mouth to scream but he's swallowing it, he's choking, and his aunt looms above him with insanity lighting up her every feature.

"You're just like me, boy," she sings. "Don't deny it! You _killed_ your wife."

Bellatrix leans close. "Maybe that girl's going the same way. I can see it in your eyes."

He blinks and he's alone again (he's never alone.)

-:-

She shows up in March.

Later, he'll learn that a house elf let her in, that she followed the trail of broken glass and alcohol to the parlor where he lay.

All he knows right now is anger and shame. "You," he hisses from the ground, sounding like the snake in the grass he is.

"Me," she says. "You look like hell."

He laughs, purposely rough and low. "Yeah, 'spect I do." Draco sits up and looks at her.

For a moment he thinks it's summer again, with Lucy standing as the moon to his sun with dark robes and shadowed eyes and an outstretched hand. But her hair is red again, and her mouth is set, and her hand's outstretched simply to help him up.

Draco stands and they stare at each other.

"Don't you dare waste away, Draco, don't you dare." There is a tremble to her voice.

"I won't," he says, "But-"

"But?"

"Please don't leave again. We can start over. I love - I love you." He's standing right next to Lucy then, towering over her (no no DRACO no IT'S A FAKE) but she doesn't look afraid, she looks angry.

"Why? So you can forget me again? So Scorpius can hate me again?" she says. "You're not even trying!"

"No, no, I'm not - but for you, I'll try. For you," he says, his shoulders already slumping, "for you I'll do anything."

She stares at him for a long while, the shadows deepening and dancing in her eyes that flicker to the Mark on his uncovered arm. "I believe you," she says.

Lucy doesn't leave until the morning.

Draco doesn't ask her to come back, but she does anyway.


End file.
